Chapter 54: Don’t Tell Me You’ve Fallen for Me

Chapter 54: Don't Tell Me You've Got a Thing for Me

Sang Yu grinned as he reached out and patted his face.

Li Zhiming raised his fist to hit him.

Before he could even throw the punch, his fist was caught, yanked to the side, and he was forced to stumble into a firm embrace.

Help!

This is so ridiculous.

Li Zhiming jumped back like he'd touched shit, eyeing Sang Yu warily with tight lips. "Don't tell me you've got a thing for me?"

For a split second, Sang Yu's eyes showed confusion and panic, but he quickly got himself together. "Yeah, so what if I do?"

"You... you..."

"So, you better not marry anyone else, or else..."

Sang Yu smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Anyone who messes around with the Young Master will end up just like Miss Cui and Miss Wang, got it?"

"?!!"

Li Zhiming whipped his head around in alarm, his lips grazing Sang Yu's cheek.

They both froze.

Sang Yu lowered his long lashes, his fingers brushing his own cheek, reliving the brief softness and warmth. He looked up, and those lips were right there, inches away.

His eyes darkened.

Before Li Zhiming could even react, he was yanked by the waist and pulled close, his question cut off by a kiss.

Right in broad daylight!

(...)

Sang Yu had at least a little conscience and let him go quickly. In the sunlight, a glistening strand of saliva was impossible to miss.

Li Zhiming's face was so red it looked like it might explode—not from embarrassment, but from rage!

"I'm done eating. Enjoy your meal, Young Master."

Sang Yu turned and stormed off, flicking his sleeve.

Leaving Li Zhiming fuming with nowhere to vent his anger.

After a brief moment of rage-induced stupor, he finally had a chance to think back on what Sang Yu had just said—Miss Cui and Miss Wang...

Did that mean those two deaths weren't accidents after all?

Miss Cui hadn't been murdered by some random person; the real culprit behind it all had always been Sang Yu.

He was already that crazy back then.

At that thought, Li Zhiming got goosebumps all over. He couldn't believe he'd been living with a wolf all this time, even sharing a bed with him.

It was only because yesterday had been so painful that he'd woken up.

His sleep wasn't that deep; there's no way he'd only wake up halfway through. That bastard Sang Yu must have slipped him something to knock him out.

And... before that...

Who knows how much he'd been secretly taken advantage of.

"May you die a horrible death!"

He cursed under his breath but didn't dare provoke him to his face. Someone like that—killing people left and right and still managing to stay squeaky clean—was a real psycho.

Li Zhiming couldn't calm down no matter what, so he went back to the study and dug out his notes.

These recorded the timing of each death and rebirth, the causes of the incidents, how each one went down, and a few special cases.

For instance, sometimes he hadn't died, but he still got sent back.

Other times, he died in a really weird way, as if it was deliberately aimed at him.

Also, the length of each rewind varied with no pattern, but it wasn't random either—it always gave him just enough time to handle things.

And then there was the most recent one.

Even though he'd rewound, this time he didn't go back to before the incident; he ended up at some pointless moment, completely useless.

So, suicide doesn't work?

Or is it...

"No, that's not it!"

Li Zhiming suddenly realized something. Right before he died, when he was all hazy, he'd heard some weird sound that didn't seem to come from around him.

It wasn't something he could have just imagined either.

He had no one to tell about this suspicion and no way to verify it, so he quietly hid the notes and acted like nothing had happened.

Silence was the Cambridge of tonight.

Miss Wang was dead, and after investigation, it turned out to be a sudden heart attack—no killer found.

His fiancée was buried, and of course, the engagement was off.

Li Zhiming was gloomy all day, couldn't even muster any energy when his little sister came to hang out with him. He looked like he was depressed.

Getting bullied all the time, and forced at that—how could he not be depressed?

It was a secret he couldn't bring himself to say.

People on the outside didn't know; they all thought he was heartbroken, hit hard by Miss Wang's death, and had fallen into a slump, bedridden.

The Prime Minister only had this one son left and was terrified something might happen to him, so he immediately made the call and arranged a new marriage for him. The Emperor, who really favored the old Prime Minister, granted another marriage decree.

Li Zhiming had no clue about this "good" news.

By the time he found out, the Emperor had already given the decree and set the date, even saying it was to shake off his gloom and that getting married early would be best.

It scared Li Zhiming so badly that he knelt outside his old man's door that very night, yelling, "Father, I won't get married! Please, Father, call off this engagement!"

The old Prime Minister was surprised. "Why?"

“I... I...”

“Miss Wang is already gone. You don’t need to grieve so much. Once the new bride arrives, your gloom will naturally lift.”

“No!” Li Zhiming was beside himself, “I won’t get married. I refuse to take a wife. Dad, I’m begging you to break off this engagement. I—I only have feelings for Miss Wang. She’s gone, and I’ll never marry for the rest of my life!”

“Ridiculous.”

The Old Prime Minister scolded, “Cut the nonsense. The Emperor already decreed this marriage; it can’t be called off. You’re the one to carry on the Li family line—how can you refuse to marry?”

“I...”

“You’ll marry whether you like it or not. By next year, I want a grandchild in this house. Otherwise, you’ll answer to me.”

The Prime Minister’s word was law.

He was dead set on it.

Li Zhiming’s brain was spinning. This wasn’t just about having a grandkid—if that lunatic Sang Yu heard about this, that girl would be dead by tomorrow.

Another innocent person would die.

Li Zhiming clenched his jaw and stood his ground, insisting he would never marry and would stay single for life. This made the Prime Minister furious, so he locked Li Zhiming in his room and banned him from going out.

Alas, the engagement still couldn’t be annulled.

Li Zhiming paced restlessly in his room until, at last, Sang Yu, that ghost, arrived.

“Young Master.”

He came with his life-or-death questionnaire, posing the question: “Young Master is to be wed?”

“No, I’m not marrying.” Li Zhiming shook his head desperately. “Don’t do anything rash, I beg you. I truly won’t marry—it’s an imperial decree. But rest assured, I will refuse it. I will, I swear.”

“An imperial decree... that does seem hard to refuse. Shall I lend a hand?”

Li Zhiming’s eyes lit up: “You’d help me?”

Sang Yu nodded benevolently: “Of course. I like you, Young Master, and I don’t want you to wed. Naturally, I’ll help.”

But Li Zhiming still had his wits about him. He said sternly, “Then swear you won’t take any lives. You must not harm the innocent, and don’t do anything reckless.”

“Mm, agreed.”

Alright, that would do—as long as the engagement was called off.

A lifetime of bachelorhood was far better than watching one innocent after another die because of him.

What a curse.